Mary's Christmas Carol
by nemain13
Summary: Tonight you will be visited by three spirits..." The classic Christmas tale by Dickens brought to ABQ and starring everyone's favorite Marshals. Now complete with the addition of Chapter 5.
1. Chapter 1

**During the course of Masks, roar526 made a comment about an ABQ Christmas Carol. The idea kind of stuck with me, and it's been fermenting and growing while Masks has been going...and going...and going. I need a break from the story that was supposed to be a break from other stories, so I am giving you Mary's Christmas Carol. I hope you enjoy. And, yes, this one will have to be brief. The plot is already pretty much defined, isn't it? LOL.....

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He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree. ~Roy L. Smith

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Mary did not "do" Christmas. For so many years, it had just been another time in her young life when promises were made and then broken, when she'd watched her father take the vast majority of whatever money they'd had and gamble it away, watched her mother take what was left and consume it in the form of a very different type of "spirit" than most of those cheery songs chirping from every store sound system seemed to be talking about. She could remember a couple of notable and hellish Christmases, in fact, that stood out as red-letter events even in the saga of loss and misery that had forged her. Could remember them when she allowed herself to look back, to pry open the rusted-shut locks of her heart and see vistas that could destroy. If she was honest with herself, did see, in fact, sometimes if she wasn't careful during this season of light and red and green wrappings, the pair of small blond girls standing in the cold, empty living room waiting for promised presents that never arrived....

Mary pulled the black leather coat around her more tightly and wished desperately for June. It was not cold in June. June was a sensible season. June was filled with sun, pools, and the absence of....

"Merry Christmas, Mary!"

That.

"Yeah. Same to you." Which was as close as she could get to the greeting expected of her this morning. At least she'd smiled when she'd said it. Sort of. Okay. Maybe it looked as though she was mildly in pain. She hadn't shot the cheery little Mrs. Geisel had she? She was being good.....

She and Marshall had been forced to split up to take care of this last round of witness visits heading into the holidays, and, as always when they weren't together, she missed his balancing presence. _Not that I would tell him this. He's already too smug by half most of the time. But today, I'm getting Christmassed to death. He's good with this stuff. He could run interference. _

She was jarred from her reverie by Mrs. Geisel bustling up to her from the kitchen. The tiny lady was carrying a red and green tin and under her soft white curls, her eyes were bright as a bird's. She extended the tin toward Mary with an expectant smile, and Mary realized whatever was in the tin was for her. _Oh hell. I hate it when they give me things. What do I say? Do I open it now or carry it with me? _

She was saved from trying to come up with a comment by Mrs. Geisel. "They're fruitcake cookies, dear. It's an old, old recipe. Fitting, yes? I am, after all, an old, old woman." She cackled softly and pressed the tin into Mary's hands.

_Yeah. That's what I was afraid of. Fruitcake. Damn._

Her expression must have said it all because Mrs. Geisel laughed and patted Mary's arm in a gesture Mary understood the little lady meant to be comforting and reassuring. Maybe on someone else, it would have worked.... "Oh, child. To have a picture of your face just now.... Come. You must taste one, or I won't be satisfied. This is not fruitcake as you obviously know it." And despite her diminutive size, she dragged Mary into the kitchen to the worn dinette set, and before Mary really knew what had hit her, she had a cookie in her hand and a glass of milk in front of her. Mrs. Geisel sat in front of her, bright bird eyes watching. "Eat. Go ahead."

Mary looked at the cookie. _I can do this. I have had combat training. I can just bite, mash it up some, and bolt it down with the milk if it sucks. After all, it can't be worse than dinner a la Jinx, right?_ She took a smallish bite, and to her pleasant surprise, the cookie was actually very good. She took another, larger bite.

Mrs. Geisel laughed as Mary devoured the cookie. "See? I told you. Silly child. Not everything unknown is bad. And not everything you think you know is what you think it is." She pushed the plate of cookies across the table. "Please. Have some more. It makes me happy to see you eat them."

Mary complied. She felt the knot between her shoulder blades begin to unwork itself as the tiny lady prattled on, watching her eat cookie after cookie. Eventually, Mary joined in the conversation. They talked cookies and, perhaps inevitably, Christmases. It turned out that these particular cookies had been something Mrs. Geisel had made every year for her children.

"Before, of course, the accident. God rest them."

Mary nodded, felt suddenly glad she'd stayed, glad she'd eaten the cookies. Mrs. Geisel's son and daughter had been murdered as a part of a mob operation. The son had gotten involved because he'd owed them money. The daughter had been collateral damage, visiting in the office on the wrong day. Mrs. Geisel had witnessed it all from the seat of her daughter's car waiting to be taken to the doctor. At the age of 70, she'd entered witness protection on December 20.

The old woman looked every one of her years for a brief moment as she smoothed the wrinkles of the colorful green and red cloth on the old dinette table with her fingertips. "I...I have not made them since.... Last year, I could not do it. When Christmas came, I went to the store and I had a list even with the things I would need to buy to make them, but suddenly, I walked to the front of the store and put my cart away empty and came back home."

She looked away from Mary, out the window over the tiny kitchen sink, her eyes suddenly full of tears. "I could not do it, not when there would not be anyone coming to eat them, you know. Nothing is worse than a plate of cookies with no one to share them with."

Mrs. Geisel looked back at Mary, and she smiled gently. "One eats them all oneself, you know, and let me tell you, my girl, there is not one healthy thing in these! None of this fat-free nonsense! These are a holiday indulgence, to be sure." Mary was suddenly struck with admiration for the little iron woman sitting in front of her, battling back tears and talking about cookie recipes.

"Well, Mrs. Geisel, all I can tell you is that I'm glad you made them this year. These are amazing."

Mrs. Geisel beamed. "I knew you'd like them once you gave them a fair try. And I have another box for you to take to your partner, too." Her eyes were twinkling again with happiness. "I know how men like to eat, and that one skinny like a rail, too. My late husband was that way, and the food that man could eat! So I do not expect you do share. Share! There is no such thing with them..." She got up and bustled about the kitchen gathering up the other box.

As Mary drove away with the two red and green tins of cookies on the seat beside her and Mrs. Geisel waving in the driveway some time later, she eyed the pretty poinsettia flag hanging from the spry lady's porch. Apparently, some people were able to forgive the season for its indignities. Mary didn't know whether it was a sign of hope or defiance.

---

When she got back to the office, she gritted her teeth, mentally preparing as she rode up in the elevator. The doors opened and she swept her eyes over the scene in front of her. Her cookie-induced good mood evaporated almost immediately, the gloom she'd left the office with descending on her like a heavy, wet black wool cloak. _Damn. Has it actually gotten __**worse**__ since I left? How is that even possible?_

A Christmas tree stood in the corner decorated with an odd assortment of ornaments assembled over the course of the last three years. _Marshall's doing. We never had any such damn thing before he showed up. Pure crap, that._ The witnesses liked it, though. Any of them who passed through the office during the holiday season for any reason or knew about it from previous experience had been known to "gift" the Marshals with an ornament for the office tree resulting in the current chaos of color, motif, and material. There were several that had a law enforcement or Wild West theme, but equally at home were Santas, snowmen, and unidentifiable kid-made projects that seemed to delight her partner most of all.

_He freakin' acts like he's been given gold, frankincense, and/or myrrh whenever one of those kids gives him a star made out of Popsicle sticks. It's...embarrassing. And I still haven't figured out what that one is. Why do kids make this stuff? Why don't their parents stop them from handing them out? _She flicked her finger against a red and green ceramic amorphous shape with a crooked smiling face incised into it as she passed, shook her head in irritation and walked on to her desk.

Garland had been strung up around everything not fast enough to get away, and around Marshall's desk there was an honest-to-God strand of old-fashioned bubble lights. _I didn't think they even made those anymore. And who the hell puts those on a desk? And, more importantly, WHY?_

Mary refused to be charmed. All the festive colors and flickering lights just made her edgy, as if at any moment.... She refused to finish that sentence even mentally. Her edginess took its usual form, and as she crossed the office, she snarled at Eleanor.

"Jeez, Eleanor. Does this office have to be the place Christmas comes to die every damn year?"

Eleanor glanced up from her desk to gaze conspicuously at the floor behind Mary. "Hmm. Left your little reindeer-dog at home, did we, Ms. Grinch?"

Mary smiled her not-smile and walked over to lean her palms on Eleanor's desk, glad for the challenge, glad for a direction to aim this nameless frustration. "Tsk-tsk. Better watch that. Don't want to get on Santa's naughty list, do we, Ms. Sunshine?" She flicked a finger at the little metal bobble Santa that bounced in response to the pressure. Mary sneered and strode back over to Marshall's desk.

It was still empty. She wished he'd get here. She wanted to tell him about Mrs. Geisel, and...and...she just didn't like it when he wasn't around. She sat the tin of cookies down in the middle of his empty blotter and retreated to her own space. Glumly, she prodded the pile of her mail around on her desk with the eraser of her pencil. A red envelope poked out of the stack, catching her attention. She pulled it out and looked at it. There was nothing on the outside of the envelope. Frowning, she used the pencil to tear the envelope open.

Her frown grew as she surveyed the green and white paper that come out. She looked up with narrowed eyes as the elevator chimed.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded.

"And a cheery good afternoon to you as well," said Marshall as he crossed the room and divested himself of his coat and scarf. He grinned at her as he slid into his chair.

"Marshall," she growled. Her tone was full of violence, of torments not sanctioned even by Dante at his most creative.

He remained unfazed; his insouciant little smile did not dim at all. "Oh, come on, Mary. If I remember correctly, you can read, right? I mean you did have to pass the test to get into the Marshal Service just like the rest of us. I don't _think _they would have let you in just for threatening to shoot them..." He saw her eyes narrow and her hand move toward the glass paperweight on her desk, and he decided to let that particular line of teasing go.

"It's an invitation. To a Christmas party."

"No shit, idiot. That much I gathered. But why are you inviting me? To a Christmas party?"

Marshall's smile was gentle now. He laced the fingers of his hands together, looked down at them. "Yeah. Silly me. I can't figure out why I'd want my partner and my best friend at a Christmas party I'm throwing. I guess I'm just strange that way." He looked up at her, and Mary felt a little silly. Her anger deflated, leaving her with nothing but the underlying despair this season always created in her.

"Marshall....you know I don't... Christmas."

Marshall got up from his desk, came across to hers, sat on the top and crossed his long legs. He tilted his head and looked down at her with his earnest blue eyes. He knew. He'd never been able to get the exact story out of her, not even with his patented combination for handling her: blatant antagonism and gentle patience. He suspected this was more of those ghosts of her past coming back to strangle the joy out of the holiday for her, but he knew better than to push her. _She'll tell me when she's ready, when she can._ _Still, though..._

"Mare...Come on. It will just be a party. It will be Stan and Eleanor and Bobby D., and some of the others from the office here, a couple of other people I know well, and we're just going to have a good time. Nobody's going to tie you up and force feed you eggnog or fruitcake. Promise."

"I don't know..."

"I also promise that nobody there will expect you to be in any way holly jolly." This was said with a straight face.

She smiled, pushed him gently. "God. You really are an idiot sometimes. You know that?" She was still smiling and shaking her head as she pulled the papers she'd previously shoved away toward her again. She took the green invitation and, after a moment of consideration, placed it in her "To Do" box. She would have to make that decision later on.

As she pushed him, he allowed himself a grin, satisfied that he'd at least pulled her from that state of blind anger to amusement, and he slid off her desk to go back to his own and start the paperwork waiting on him there. He was, of course, aware she had not agreed to come to the party, but that was a battle for another day. He watched her surreptitiously as she began to do her own paperwork, watched her pick up the green invitation, watched her weigh it in her hand and her mind, watched her place it in the sorter. Mentally, he sighed. _Well, at least she didn't throw it away altogether. I think that's progress of a kind._

He looked down at the center of his desk and noticed for the first time the red and green tin. Puzzled, he opened it. "Oh, yes! Cookies!"

Despite herself, Mary smiled.....

---

The night for the Christmas party arrived, and Mary watched as everyone was filing out of the office. Her mood had been steadily deteriorating all week. She had to decide whether or not she was going to go, but she just could not handle the thought of so many people so cheery over this holiday..._this holiday when everything can collapse just like a house of cards, only cards never had the weight to crush and kill like...like.... _

Guilt had dug in sharp little claws each time she looked at Marshall, each time she listened to him telling Eleanor about his preparations for the party. Of all the people she knew, he was the last one she wanted to disappoint. _Fucking Christmas. If it weren't Christmas, I wouldn't be in this damn position. Now I'm going to wind up hurting Marshall because of this stupid holiday. I HATE this...._

She was currently standing near the windows looking out at the darkening sky. Her reverie was shattered as Marshall stepped up beside her. He was holding his jacket and looking down at her with a gentle question on his face.

"Mare, um, you know I haven't asked about it this week, but this is kind of the moment since I'm leaving to go home and finish get things ready and all, and so I was just wondering if you knew whether or not you were thinking you might possibly be..."

She cut off the awkward flow of words coming from her partner. "No. Marshall, I can't. I'm sorry. I...just...not for Christmas. There's not enough alcohol in all of the stores in Albuquerque to get me through it. I know it's horrible, and I know I should be there, and..."

He waved a hand, forced the smile over the disappointment because he knew she needed it. "Hey, no, I understand. Look. I'll call you or something. Just don't stay here too late working, okay?"

She smiled a wan smile. "Yeah, well..."

They stared at each other another moment, and it seemed that both would say something, that unsaid something that would change this unsatisfactory moment into the thing it could be, give it the wings it needed to fly, but neither could find a way to articulate those strong emotions. Marshall looked down at the coat in his hands, slipped it onto his broad shoulders. Mary tapped the pen she had in her hands against her palm, a nervous little tattoo. Their eyes met again.

Marshall stepped forward, and before Mary realized what he meant to do, he drew her into a brief, hard hug. Startled, she wrapped her arms around him and reciprocated. He whispered in her ear. "Gonna say it even if you don't want to hear it, Mare. Merry Christmas." And he let her go, turned around and took the stairs out of the building. Mary could only watch him go, the feeling of his arms around her both comforting and disquieting her even though he was now gone.

---

The office was dark except for the pool of light around her desk and the security lights near the elevators. She'd turned off the other lights hours ago. The darkness suited her mood.

Mary sighed and leaned back in her chair putting her hands in the small of her back and stretching until she felt the subtle pop relieving the tension of so hours folded over her desk. All her paperwork was done now, and there was really no reason to stay here any longer. She rose and carried the three piles of forms and folders to their respective places, leaving one pile on Eleanor's desk, one in basket outside Stan's office, and then opening the filing cabinet to put away the third.

She was dawdling, and she knew it. This filing didn't have to be done now, didn't have to be done by her at all. Angrily, she slid the last folder into its slot and slammed the drawer closed, turning to lean back against the cabinet to stare across the empty office.

_I'm here doing this so I can legitimize missing Marshall's party. Because after all, if I was busy with official stuff, then it's okay not to go, right? He won't be able to be mad or hurt then, right? Damn. I hate this. I hate feeling this way. I hate this season and everything associated with it. _

She glared at the festive red and green on everyone's desks but her own, at the tree with its lights, and she realized as she did so that the string of lights was still gently blinking. _Great. They can't even unplug the fucking thing. I have to do that, too. _She stalked over to the tree as if it were a dangerous creature seeking to do her bodily harm, and she reached down to grab the plug. As her hand touched the green plastic, she felt a curious tingling numbness spread up her hand, and the world went dark.

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**You can R&R now, or read on. Chapter 2 will be up momentarily.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here we go.... There will be some deviation from the plot, so don't flame and/or shoot me, okay? I mean, I'm not Dickens. If you want mastery, read him. And with that in mind, I give you this quote and all the irony involved in its placement with this chapter....

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Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!

~Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers, 1836

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She woke up with her cheek pressed against the cold tile of the floor. An insistent chiming noise like a thousand tiny silver bells had been clamoring for her attention for some time now, but it had been hard to pull herself up from the blackness that had engulfed her. Her eyes opened, not together, but she finally was able to begin sorting the world back into shapes that made sense, into a location she recognized. With a groan, Mary pushed herself up to her knees and looked around.

_What happened to me? Why am I on the floor? And what in the name of freakin' crap is that ringing sound?_

Her eyes tracked the source of the unfamiliar intrusion to her desk. Sitting in her chair was a man she'd sincerely hoped she'd never see again, feet up, face the perfect picture of arrogant ease: Robert Eps. Mary forced herself off the floor despite a remaining sense of queasiness. She had her Glock drawn and trained on him by the time she was fully on her feet.

He tilted his head a little sideways, but other than that, he was unmoved. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" He laughed his rusty little laugh, and looked at her, raked his eyes over her in a way that was far, far from friendly, at least to her mind. She did not lower the gun.

"What the hell are you doing here, Eps? How did you get in? You're not in the program anymore, remember?" Her mind was assessing the threat. Had he caused her blackout? How had he entered the building? What were his intentions? Was he armed? She had her weapon out, so she should have the drop on him....

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I'm here specifically tonight for you, Mary Shannon."

Mary felt that prickling creeping unease that had been following her around for the past few days blossom at the base of her neck, and goosebumps formed.

"Here for me, huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean, exactly, when it's at home?"

Eps still remained still and calm except to mildly shift one booted foot over the other. Mary's grip tightened, hands tracking the movement. "Well, hell, Mary. I'm assuming you've read the story before, right? Everybody pretty much knows how it goes. I mean there's a version with Mickey Mouse for Pete's sake."

Mary growled in frustration. "Eps, if you'd like to live, you'd better fucking explain yourself."

Amused, he grinned, dimples showing. "You always did like that fine print, didn't you, honey? Okay. We'll go with the classic forms, then. Mary Shannon. You will be visited tonight by three spirits...."

"What the living fuck are you talking about...."

".....The first to come at the stroke of eight...or there abouts. Let's call it eight. It's nearly that now, and I'd like to get this show on the road....."

"....Eps? Are you high? Are you using? Have you hit your head on something recently?"

"....the next to come at the stroke of nine....or whenever she shows, although I have to say she's usually pretty punctual about these things....annoyingly so at times....."

"That's it. I'm going right over here to this phone, and I'm going to make a little call. Just keep talking. Pay me no attention whatsoever...."

"....and the last...well, he'll pretty much show up whenever he damn well pleases. Far be it from me to impose any sort of stricture or schedule on the Big D. If you press me for a time, let's call that one the stroke of ten. It will keep everything nice and parallel. I remember my English teacher always riding my ass about that back in the day....."

Mary had picked up the office phone and was trying to hold the gun on Eps and dial at the same time. She was more than a little unnerved. What the hell was he talking about? Three ghosts? A time schedule? Had he joined some type of cult? What was he using?

_Wait a minute.... _She glanced down at the phone in consternation. There was no dial tone. She punched the buttons on the phone, tried to use one of the other lines. As she pressed each button, to her horror, Christmas music came pouring out of the handset, a different carol with each button pressed. She banged the phone sharply on the desk, looking at it in dismay, and the music stopped.

A finger tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun. Eps had crossed the room during her encounter with the phone, and he was now much, much too close to her. She tried to raise the gun, but he gently caught her hand and pressed down with far more strength than he should have been able to muster, especially with just one hand.

"Really. Mary. Come on. Get with the program, won't you?"

She felt panicked, backed into a corner, and of course, Mary never dealt with that well....

"What the hell is going on here, Eps? What game are you playing? You need to tell me that right now. You come in here and attack me, then you start spouting psychopathic nonsense about spirits and visitations, and you rig the phone for this cheap, stupid trick, and...."

She suddenly realized that Eps was nowhere to be seen in front of her. She heard the silvery chiming of bells behind her near the elevator, and when she spun to look, the doors were sliding open and Eps was standing inside staring up at the ceiling. Her words dried up like vapor in the hot morning sun. Her mind spun around two words over and over: _Not possible...not possible...not possible...._

"Well? Are you coming or not? Remember, you're booked up pretty heavily tonight, so we kind of need to get our collective behinds in gear here, sugar....."

Helplessly, Mary found her feet carrying her toward the shimmering light filling the elevator. The doors closed behind her, and the lights on the floor indicator began to light up merrily, showing descending numbers. Although their elevator did not play music, muzak was drifting in from somewhere above. Through her haze, Mary registered the tune, "I'll Be Home for Christmas."

_Well, shit...._

---

When the elevator showed that it had reached the first floor, the doors rolled silently open, and Mary looked out expecting to see the parking lot. However, nothing about the odd scene that met her eyes was familiar to her. _What the hell? This kind of thing just DOES. NOT. HAPPEN. _She turned to look at Eps in frustration.

"Eps, what is this? Some kind of Christmas joke? You may not know it, but I am not known for my sense of humor..."

Eps was leaning against the back wall of the elevator, still completely at ease. "Ah, come on, Mary. You're supposed to be an experienced member of the law-enforcement community. Use your powers of observation. You tell me where you are." He shot her a snide smile and crossed his arms.

Mary glared at him another moment and looked out at the impossibility just beyond the elevator doors again. The elevator now opened onto a shabbily carpeted hallway. Florescent lights lined the ceiling, and here and there along the run bulbs were burned out or flickering in their final stages of death. From behind the closed doors with their dingy and peeling yellow paint, Mary could hear the sounds of life. There was a TV blaring the theme song from a well-known Christmas kids' special, the sound of someone's music turned up just a little too loud, and from the very end of the hall where all the lights had long-since stopped burning, the almost imperceptible sound of someone crying and trying not to be heard. It was that sound that jarred Mary's memory, and she stepped out of the elevator with horrified disbelief chasing its way up and down her spine.

"It can't be. It just...can't be...."

She edged her way down the hall, suddenly enveloped in the smells of the place, the scent of someone's garlic bread, someone's attempt at homemade gingerbread and the vague tang where a piece or two had burned, and even a whiff of a fresh tree from one of the doors. She knew that none of those homey scents were coming from that door at the dark end of the hall.

She turned to look for Eps. He was right behind her. "Why have you brought me here? Why have we come to this place? I swore I'd never come back here again...in fact, I thought they tore this goddamn place down..."

Eps look was filled with gentle consideration. "Some places defy all efforts to remove them. And actually, you sort of picked this location yourself, Mary. I'm more or less along for the ride and the interpretation."

She raised her menacingly. "Get me out of here. I mean it. Whatever this is, Eps, I don't want any more part in it."

Eps sighed. "Look. You're here for the duration, right? We both know that you're going to go down that hall and open that door, so could we just get on with it?" He glanced down at his watch in an exaggerated fashion. "On a time table, remember?"

She paused, cocked her head sideways in a gesture that would have had Marshall, were he there, leaping to restrain her, and then said in her sweetest voice, "Yeah. Absolutely, Eps. You are altogether right in every way. Let's get on with it." And she drew back and swung as hard as she could.

Eps did not raise his arms to block. He did not try to step aside. He did not even flinch. Instead, he raised his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned while Mary stumbled forward through him with the strength behind her punch. She regained her balance, but not before she was pressed against the smooth metal of the elevator doors for support. She spun around wide-eyed, staring at Eps who was casually leaning against the far wall looking back at her with a total absence of alarm.

"Get it all out of your system, did you? If not, please, feel free to try again."

Mary turned to face, slid down to the floor and pulled her knees up tightly. "What the hell are you?"

Eps rolled his eyes. "Mary. I know you're not slow. I did go through this with you earlier, remember? Three ghosts? One night? One big all-night date with you?" He held up three fingers with his first question, then folded them down to only his index finger with the next statement which he dropped to point at her with the last question.

She shook her head, held up her hand. "Stop it. This can't be happening. This can't be real. I have to be dreaming. I have to be hallucinating....yeah. That's it. Maybe Mrs. Geisel drugged me with those fruitcake cookies somehow...." She put her head in her hands.

Eps laughed, and it was not an unkind sound somehow. "Look. Okay. Here's the deal. You want out?"

She looked up at him and nodded. She felt lost, uncertain of the rules in this place, whatever it was.

"Then you are going to have to go down that hall and open that door."

_But I don't want to...._

"Doesn't matter what you want to do, Mary. The way back leads through that door, through that apartment, through what happened there all those years ago."

_But it will hurt...._

Compassion flickered over Eps face like the flame of a candle, briefly seen then gone, and for a moment, that silvery light enveloped him again, then winked out. "Yes. I am aware of that. But hey, that's life, right? Come on. Get yourself up. Time's a-wasting, and I've already told you that the chick who's up next has a thing about punctuality." He reached a hand down, and to Mary's surprise as she instinctively took it, it was solid and he pulled her to her feet.

---

It did not take many steps at all to get to the door at the dark end of the hall. Mary stood before it, and she reached a hesitant hand up to run her fingers up to run them over the number on the door, 6-F. She'd always thought that particular combination of number and letter was especially appropriate for this place, the number of evil and the letter of failure. She looked down at the doorknob, but she could not make herself turn it.

Eps sarcastic voice cut her from behind. "Gorgeous door, really. But I think what we're after is probably on the other side."

_Asshole._

She turned the knob and pushed the door open. Just as she'd remembered, it stuck about halfway, and she gave it a savage little shove to get enough room to clear it. Inside was the meager furniture and pool of belongings of the Shannon family, all they'd had, everything in the world she'd known when she'd lived here. Somehow, in some way beyond her understanding she was here again, not just in 6-F, but back in that very time, too....

In the corner was a horribly-bent and spindly-looking artificial tree. She sneered at it, trying to squelch her unease.

"God. Look at that crappy tree. That was all we had that year. I remember that we got it because Jinx picked it up at a yard sale. You can look at it and see why."

Eps did not comment. They walked closer to it.

"Maybe this is where my hatred of them all started."

The ornaments on it were handmade, some hers and some Brandi's. She put out a fingertip and pushed a little snowman made from construction paper and cotton balls. As it swung gently back and forth, a memory assailed her unexpectedly.

"You know," she said meditatively, "I remember these. Jinx had a Saturday afternoon off, and she went down to Woolsworth and bought a bunch of crazy stuff and brought it home. We all sat around the table making ornaments for that tree. She'd pick up each one we made and tell us it was the prettiest thing she'd ever seen and hang it up like it was some kind of treasure...."

It had been a rare, bright happy afternoon of sobriety and joy with Jinx. Of course, she knew now that they hadn't had enough money to buy decorations for the tree, but it hadn't mattered to her nine-year-old self. Those handmade deocrations had satisfied her in a way nothing storebought could have. She thought about the ornaments on the office tree briefly, and something clenched hard around her heart. She spun fast on her heel to scan the rest of the room.

There were a few pitiful toys on the floor, but nothing else indicated that there were two very young girls living here. There were no photos of the girls growing up, no little mementos of them, none of the clutter that accumulated when a family had been in residence for awhile. In fact, the whole apartment had a temporary feel to it, the feel that said the people here had not been living there very long and that they might at any moment be pulling up to go somewhere else. Mary was familiar with that sensation in the air, felt it everyday in the homes she entered as a part of her job, but suddenly she was aware as she never had been before that the temporary had been a permanent part of her own life for a long, long time.

Cutting into her reverie, a tiny blond-haired girl in pink pajamas came running into the room blinking and rubbing her eyes. She quickly looked under the tree and froze in her tracks. There was nothing there. She closed her eyes, opened them again, but the view under the artificial evergreen had not magically altered. A tear tracked down the little girl's cheek, and Mary felt sadness rising in her heart, felt rage clawing its way right up behind it in hot pursuit.

_Because I remember that. I remember exactly how that felt. I know just exactly what she's...I mean...I'm...thinking right now..._

The little blond-haired girl was nine-year-old Mary. A Mary who had been not only promised a present for Christmas, but who had also seen it bought and brought home now could not understand what had happened to it.....

Mary watched the younger version of herself creep toward the tree, lift the cheap red plastic tree skirt as if something might be hidden under it and then go and sit forlornly on the cheap rust and brown plaid ottoman. Young Mary drew her knees under her chin and stared at the tree in furious concentration, clearly turning something over in her mind quickly.

Eps voice broke the stillness of the room. "What were you thinking, just then?" His voice was mild, all spite and irony completely absent.

Mary kept her focus on the little girl in the middle of that cold room staring at that empty space under the pitiful tree. "Jinx had taken us to see the Santa at the mall. She told us we should ask him for just the one thing we wanted most. Brandi and I heard the other kids giving these huge lists, and I remember she wanted to expand her list, but told her we had a better chance of getting one big thing out of the old man than a lot of little stuff. We were pretty serious about strategy." She smiled bitterly. "For all the good it did us. Anyway. We asked for our big requests. We wanted bikes. We could ride to school from here and all the other kids had them. I had had one before, but it would be Brandi's first."

Young Mary was still hunkered down on the ottoman in furious thought. Occasionally, her hand came up to swipe at her cheek.

"A week after that, I overheard Jinx talking to somebody on the phone while Brandi and I were playing. Although I usually ignored her, I heard the word 'bike,' and I started listening in. She was talking to some guy on the phone at a shop nearby. A little while later, she told me to watch Brandi because she had to go out and take care of something. I waited until she left and I dragged Brandi out with me after her. I had to know. I had to know if I was really going to get the bike or if Jinx was going to screw me over again."

She glanced at Eps. "I was already getting cynical at nine, you see." Eps said nothing.

"Imagine my surprise when I saw her go up to the counter and the guy showed her two of the prettiest bikes I'd ever seen. The larger one, the one that I guess was for me, was red. It wasn't second-hand or anything. Nothing was rusted, or broken, or ratty in any way. It looked like a dream come true to me. The little one was hot pink with a basket, streamers, and training wheels. In other words, Brandi's perfect ride. I saw Jinx give the guy some money, and they chatted for a few more minutes, then he rolled both bikes into the back of the shop and Brandi and I cut out quick so we could get home before Jinx caught us. For the first time in several years, I was feeling optimistic about my chances for Christmas."

She took a few steps forward. "But you see how it turned out, don't you?"

Eps came forward, too, until he was right behind her. "Is this the worst of it?"

Mary shuddered. "No. It's not..." And right on cue, another smaller blond child bounced into the room.

"Mary! It's Christmas! Merry Christmas! Let's go wake up Daddy and Jinx!"

Young Mary did not move. She continued to stare at the empty spot under the tree as if her concentration alone would make it suddenly fill with the two bikes that were supposed to be there.

Young Brandi bounded forward and squirmed onto the ottoman with her. "Maa-rry! C'mon! We gotta get Daddy and Jinx so we can get our presents! I wanna go ride my bike. Will you teach me to ride it? I wanna take the training wheels off it."

Young Mary turned her head and looked at the happy and excited face of her baby sister. Mary could still feel the hot pain of that moment as precisely as if she were still in that small body. Young Mary grabbed Brandi suddenly and hugged her. "Sure. Let's go get Daddy and Jinx." The two girls slipped off the stool and down the tiny hall to their parents' room. Mary and Eps did not follow them.

His voice broke the silence again. "And when they got down the hall?"

Mary wet her lips, cleared her throat before she could speak. "Daddy wasn't there. He hadn't been home since sometime the day before. When, it turns out, Jinx had sent him down to get our bikes from their hiding place." She stirred restlessly. "When, it turns out, he took them, hocked them and a few other choice items from around the house, cleaned out the checking account, and took off to do a little holiday gambling in ever-festive Vegas. Again."

She turned to face him. "Eps. Get me the hell out of here. I didn't need to see this again. Really."

Eps pointed her toward the little bedroom the two girls shared. The little drama had been unfolding itself behind them as she'd spoken, and Jinx's tears could be heard loud and long coming from her bedroom. Eps spoke over her. "There's one more thing you need to see here, one thing left to remember, Mary."

"Fine. Fine. What the-fuck-ever you say, Eps." She sighed and walked across the room, pushed open the door. _Whatever is left can't hurt me any more than what I've just relived...._

Young Mary sat on the tiny twin bed that was hers, knees folded up into that protective ball again, staring out the window. There were no tears on her face now. She knew now what had happened, and as she would do so often in her life, she was now just putting the pieces together and getting ready to go on as best she could. Below her, she could see the first few children coming out of the apartment buildings near them on their new bikes and skateboards, and she tried very hard to suppress the savage feeling of hate that burned through her.

Suddenly, a hand was laid on her tense shoulder. She looked around, surprised. It was Brandi, her eyes bright red from crying.

"What is it, Squish?" She tried to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice, tried to make her tone sweet for her little sister. She knew Brandi was probably more disappointed than she was. After all, Squish hadn't had as long to get used to this crap as she had....

Brandi was holding something behind her back with her other hand. She pulled it out and held it in front of her, offering it to Mary. "Merry Christmas, Mary. Don't be sad. I will give you Kitty for Christmas so you won't be sad, okay?" Young Mary looked down. It was Brandi's favorite toy, a stuffed cat with a fluffy pink bow. Brandi had found piece of red ribbon somewhere and tied an awkward bow around it. Young Mary felt her heart, already fragile from the pain of her father's betrayal, shatter. She gently took the cat from Brandi and held it to her chest.

"Thank you, Squish. I love it."

Brandi's uncertain gaze became a glorious smile, and she got on the bed with Mary, wrapping her arms around her waist. They sat looking down at the increasing number of children and bikes. Brandi looked at her after a moment and said, "Well, there's always next year, right?" Mary had squeezed her tight, stuffed cat pressed between them, and vowed that she'd take better care of them, find a way to protect them, find a way to ensure Brandi got her bike, something.....

Softly, she answered, "Right, Squish. Right. Merry Christmas."

Mary turned away and walked to the door of the apartment. She opened it, walked down the hall, punched the elevator button and stood impatiently waiting for it to arrive. The doors finally opened, and Eps, of course, was standing there leaning indolently against the wall studying his nails. She just looked at him, then got in and faced the front, steadfastly ignoring him, trying fervently to do the same to the turmoil rolling inside her. She had forgotten about Brandi and the stuffed cat....

"Pretty lame gift, really, though, wasn't it?" Eps voice was a sneer from the behind her. The elevator was in motion, and the lights on the indicator were changing. There was no muzak this time.

"Shut it, Eps. I don't want to talk about this anymore." Her voice was a tight, dangerous growl.

"But what was it really? I mean it was just a stuffed cat. And it wasn't in all that great a condition, either, was it? I mean, damn, was that supposed to take away the sting of losing a bike? Your sister must be exceptionally dim."

The doors to the elevator were opening, and Mary shot out of them not caring where they led this time. She was mildly surprised to find herself back in the office. She spun to find Eps right behind her.

"She gave me the most precious thing, she, a six-year-old kid, had in the whole world because she didn't want my Christmas to suck. I don't think that's lame, and by the way, who the hell even says lame anymore, you freak? And the condition of the gift didn't matter. It was the thought behind it that counted. She loved me and she wanted me to be happy. And for a little while, right there, before all the other shit that happened, we were. That's what it was. It was one of the best gifts I ever got, so quit trying to be nasty about it." Her breath was heaving, and she had backed him up to the wall.

He had begun to glow oddly again. It raised her irritation level almost unbearably for some reason. "In fact, stop talking, glowing, and messing with me in general, you freak. I have had more than enough of this, whatever it is." Eps was glowing even more brightly, and that chiming noise she'd heard when she first woke on the floor was filling the air again.

She looked around and she saw a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall. She pulled it down and pulled the pin. "Let's see if I can't help you with part of that...." She sprayed the foam of the fire extinguisher at him, coating him in it, and the light only increased as did the sound. Screaming, Mary pulled the trigger again, releasing another stream of foam. She continued to coat him with the foam until suddenly the light winked out. Actually, the light didn't just wink out. All the lights in the office went out, and Mary was plunged into total darkness.

* * *

**R&R everybody. Ghost 2 is up next. Anybody care to guess who it's going to be?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The story continues. I hope you like the next part. Have you guessed who the Spirit of Christmas Present is going to be? What did you think about the casting of the Spirit of Christmas Past? Any thoughts about the one yet to come? Hit that big button at the bottom and let me know. Merry Christmas to everyone since it's now officially that day here in the South. I hope Santa was good to you.  


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**

Remember  
This December,  
That love weighs more than gold!  
~Josephine Dodge Daskam Bacon

* * *

Mary froze when the lights went out, panting and clinging to the fire extinguisher. If all the office lights were out, the backup lights should still come on. What was going on here? Even in the case of total electrical failure in the building, there should still be some ambient light from outside filtering in. She could see nothing. Total blackness as complete as blindness enveloped her, and she fought panic for endless moments.

Suddenly, from inside the conference room, a tiny flickering light became visible. It was as if a match had been struck, that brief, that trembling and weak a light. At first it was so faint that Mary was uncertain whether or not it was real or only the product of her wishful imagination. As it grew stronger, she began to be able to make out the outline of furniture and walls in the office. After a few minutes, the light was a golden blaze that illuminated everything as if it were a bright, brilliantly sunny day. Mary, still holding the fire extinguisher, made her way cautiously toward the door of the conference room and peered around the edge.

_What fresh hell is this?_

The conference table in front of her was laden with pastries. Mary could see at least five different kinds of donuts in addition to bear claws, cinnamon rolls, tiger tails, apple fritters, danishes, and even....were those eclair? Down the center of the table, coffee pots of varying sizes and styles sat with delicious little puffs of steam from their spouts. Mary's stomach rumbled, reminding her that she'd skipped lunch today because she hadn't felt like eating due to her stress over Marshall's party.

_I feel like eating now.... Wonder if this little buffet is open for all-comers or if this is an invitation-only sort of deal?_

Mary looked around, and seeing no one, slid into the room, sat the fire extinguisher down, and took a wary step toward the table. When no traps sprang and no alarms went off, she reached down and picked up one of the eclair. She looked around again. Nobody came running from the other room. Nobody sprang out from under the table. Grinning, Mary bit into the eclair.

Just as she did, from somewhere deep within the foundations of the building there was the sound of a great clock chiming. Its bell tolled heavily, deep and sonorous, once, twice, three times.....

_What is that? Where is it coming from? We don't have anything anywhere in Albuquerque that sounds anything even close to that...._

It continued to ring, and Mary stood listening, contemplating with rising unease, still holding the eclair halfway to her mouth. It had now rung six times, now seven....

_Wait. What was it Eps said? The first will come at the stroke of eight, the second at the stroke of nine? _

The great voice of the bell rang out twice more and its ninth and final reverberation hung in the air for much longer than it seemed possible that it should. Mary turned to look at the elevator doors expectantly, waiting for whatever would happen next.

_Come on, come on..._ she thought... _bring it. I'm ready for you this time. You're not going to sneak up on me like you did before._

There was a delicate clearing of the throat behind her, and she jumped, almost dropping the eclair. She spun around and looked at the head of the conference table. Impossibly, for nobody could have entered the room without her knowing it, there sat Dr. Shelley Finkle.

---

Shelley was dressed in a green twinset. Her long brown hair was done up in an elaborate twist, and sprigs of holly had been tucked into it. A huge kitschy Christmas pin with rhinestones was affixed to the sweater of the twinset. She was sipping something frothy from a red and green mug around which both hands were tightly wrapped. She was watching Mary with some amusement.

Mary felt an immediate need to slap her.

"Hi, Mary. Why don't you have a seat and finish that eclair? We have a little bit of time before we have to go, and there is all this to enjoy...."

Mary remained standing, eyes narrowed.

"Shelley, what the hell are you doing here?"

Shelley simply reached out for another mug. Her hand hovered over one shaped like Santa's head, but then she smiled, shook her head, and picked up a plain dark green one instead. She took a large silver coffeepot from the selection on the table and poured a stream of hot liquid into the chosen mug. She lifted it and held it out to Mary, eyebrow raised.

Mary could smell the aroma of the coffee, and it smelled better than any coffee had a right to smell. Her stomach clamored loudly, and she looked down at the partially-eaten eclair still in her hand.

_Shit. Well, since I'm here and all...I guess I might as well..._

Mary walked over, took the mug from Shelley, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Shelley smiled a pleased smile and lifted her own beverage again before carefully choosing a cruller from the mountain of pastries before them.

"Now. What was your question again?"

Mary took a bite and asked again. "What is this crap, Shelley? Why are you here? What is all this food doing here? Not that I'm complaining. About the food, that is."

Shelley laughed. "That was actually several questions, I think, but I will try to answer what I can. I think you were already told you'd have three visitors tonight. Well, I'm the second one. As for why I'm here, well...that's a bit more complicated." She paused and looked at Mary's cup as if something had just occurred to her. "Oh Mary, what a terrible hostess I am! Did you want cream? Sugar?"

Mary gritted her teeth, force politeness. "No. Just answers. Could I get some of those, maybe?"

Shelley smiled again, cheery, unflappable. "Surely. Well. Let's see. Back to your questions. Oh yes. The food. This food is here because it's part of the bounty of Christmas. And that's what I'm here to show you, Mary. I'm the Spirit of Christmas Present."

"You mean as in the things we get? Because my wish list this year was pretty slim, I have to tell you Shelley...."

Again, that silvery laughter. "I mean the joys of this season in the here and now. All the good things you're missing out on during this year. That's what I'm here to show you tonight."

Mary snorted. "Yeah. Good luck with that, Shelley."

Shelley looked at her over the rim of her coffee cup. "You're convinced there is nothing good to be had at Christmas, right? No possible redeeming thing out there for you in this season?"

Mary leaned on her elbows, plucked up a tiger tail, began to unbraid it and eat it. "Nope. I know it for a gospel fact. It's a crass, commercial, selfish endeavor full of people trying to get crap out of each other. If there ever was any other meaning to it, it's been sucked away by mass marketing and credit card companies Nobody cares about anybody but him or herself anymore." She finished the last bite and swallowed down the last of the coffee in the mug. It was _really_ good coffee....

Shelley was unfazed. She finished her own beverage and snack and dusted her hands lightly. "Well, if you're refreshed, then, I think we'll get going." She rose and swept a long, old-fashioned green cloak around her shoulders.

"Shelley, there's not a place in the world you could take me where you can change my mind about this. You need to give it up, okay?"

Shelley just smiled that smile Mary had become familiar with when she had been required to go to psych eval after the shooting, and Mary knew that further resistance would be a pointless exercise. Dr. Finkle could be every bit as stubborn as Mary Shannon when it came right down to it. The two women rose and headed for the elevator.

---

Inside, Shelley pressed a button on the elevator controls and turned to face Mary. Mary realized the elevator was playing muzak again. This time the tune was, "Holly Jolly Christmas." Mary sighed. She did really, really so very, very much hate muzak....

She waited for Shelley to start a conversation, but she seemed content to wait for the elevator to arrive at its destination. Mary had the odd feeling that the elevator was sliding sideways for some reason even though that shouldn't be possible, and when she had finally decided that she was going to ask Shelley about it, the motion stopped and the doors opened.

As before, the scene outside was not the parking garage. _Surprise, surprise,_ thought Mary. _Wonder which part of freakin' Wonderland the Red Queen has brought me to this time...._

Mary glanced out the doors briefly and then back to Shelley. _Guess I really have to call her the Green Queen, don't I? _Still silent, Shelley gestured grandly for Mary to exit first. Mary rolled her eyes and stepped out into a place she was so familiar with it made her grin with relief.

She was standing in Marshall Mann's driveway. The oddness of a pair of metal elevator doors hanging in space there did not disconcert her in the least. She was at Marshall's and everything was going to be okay now. He would know what to do about Eps and Shelley, about the damn muzak-playing elevator from hell, about Kitty and Squish and the bikes that were not, about everything. If she could just see Marshall, it would all be good. She took a long stride forward, booted foot crunching on the gravel as she headed for the door.

Shelley caught her arm, and Mary shot her a look that was venomous. _Do not impede my progress to my partner. _ Shelley's calm expression did not change. "Look. You need to know the rules. They won't be able to see us. You can see them and hear them, but that's all. For tonight, you're a ghost. You can't speak to them. You can't touch them. You're here to observe. Got it?"

Mary's mouth twisted into a cynical smile. "Observation is your specialty, isn't it, Shelley? Yeah. I've got it." Her heart sank a little. She headed to the door and tried to open it, but her hand simply passed through the knob. She cursed in frustration, tried again, clawing uselessly at it. Shelley glided past her and gave her a long look before merely walking through the door as if it weren't even there.

_Oh yeah. I get it now. Oops. _

Moments later, Mary, too, was on the other side of the door in Marshall's living room. Just the sight of his shelves and shelves of books and odd knickknacks made her heart feel better. She'd been over since he had put up his tree, but she hadn't seen the house since he'd gotten it ready for the party. Christmas was everywhere. He had decorated here with as much gusto as he had used at the office, possibly even more.

_Because here, Mary the Grinch isn't around to say anything about it..._

Music was blasting from his stereo, an eclectic mix of Christmas albums from artists as diverse as Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong to Elvis to Phil Spector's Christmas collection. The small house was full of guests eating, drinking, talking, and generally relaxing. She looked around for Marshall, but she didn't see him. She floated around until she spotted Stan and Eleanor sitting very cozily on Marshall's loveseat. She drifted over to listen in for a minute.

_Because how many chances do I have to spy on the boss and...HER? s_he thought with a smirk.

Their conversation was very serious, and they leaning in to speak quietly to one another.

"...but she should be here. It's clearly killing him that she's not. Would it have killed _her_ to show up for ...I don't know...ten minutes?"

Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "I know you don't know Mary very well yet, but trust me, if she could have been here tonight, she would have. She wouldn't have done this to him if there was a way around it for her. She has...levels of tolerance, I guess you could say. For whatever reason, this was beyond hers." He took a big sip of the drink in his hand.

Eleanor's brow was wrinkled. "It's just a damn party, Stan. Come on. He would take a bullet for her. Now he's in the back somewhere and he can't even have fun because she's not here. I hate seeing him like this. I'm going to go call her."

Stan grabbed her hand, pulled her back down. "You are not. We are not going to get involved in...whatever it is that they have going...or don't. Do you hear me? It's their business. Trust me when I tell you this."

Eleanor sighed and laced her fingers together with Stan's. "Okay. I guess. But I don't like to see both of them hurting at Christmas. It seems more wrong that usual..."

Stan squeezed her hand gently. "Maybe there will be some kind of miracle, then. We can hope for it, right?"

Mary drifted away from the conversation feeling confused. _Is it weird that they're sitting there talking about us? It feels a little weird. That they're worried about us. And wait. What the hell is it they think I have going with Marshall? Do they think we're more than partners? Does he? Have we been acting that way? And why is he so upset? I told him I wouldn't be coming tonight. He's got a whole houseful of people here. Surely he doesn't need me. _

She moved through the rooms looking for him. She found him in the room he'd converted into an office/library/den sitting in his favorite big reading chair peeling the label off a bottle of beer. The room was dark except for the light of one of his lava lamps. There was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal a the head of a guy she didn't know.

"Man, you coming back in here? Folks are starting to wonder where the hell you went."

Marshall looked up and sighed. "Yeah, John. I'll be back in there. I had to make a call, and then I just...needed a minute."

The guy, John, pushed the door shut again. "What happened to our madcap merry host? You were full of reindeer poop when we showed up...."

"It's nothing. Just a little case of 'Blue Christmas' I guess."

John groaned, and Mary seconded him. "Man, do not quote Elvis titles to me. You are not worthy. Seriously, Marshall. You've done a total 180 here. What happened?"

"It's stupid."

John sat down. "It's about her, then."

Marshall grinned that crooked, self-depreciating grin Mary knew so well. "I'm that easy-to-read, then, am I?"

"Only to somebody who's known you for as long as I have. What now?"

"I thought she was coming tonight. She told me she wasn't, but still..."

"I'm sorry, Marshall. I don't know that much about her, but I know you wanted her here. Something came up then?"

Marshall turned the bottle over in his hands, focused his gaze on the place where the label had been. "Apparently."

John studied him briefly, then slapped his thighs. "Well, you know what? Her freakin' loss, man. Get your ass up from there and quit feeling sorry for yourself. You have a house full of people who expect your particular brand of festive geekery, and most of the rest of us are all out."

Marshall's lips curved, and he nodded his head. "Yeah. I'll be there in just a minute. Okay?"

John stood and headed for the door. "Gonna hold you to that. If you're not out in five, I'm sending in Deborah....."

Marshall groaned and rolled his eyes. As soon as the door closed, he put down the bottle of beer, withdrew his cellphone, and opened it. Mary saw him hit speed dial 1, and he waited briefly for someone to answer. She saw the tension in his body as the phone rang and rang. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and she heard the tiny sound of a voice coming through the speaker of the phone. Finally he spoke.

"Mare, look. I don't know why you're not answering your phone. This is the third time I've called, and I don't want to be a nuisance, but I do need to know you're okay. Please just tag me back to let me know. It's okay if don't want to be over here tonight, but...just...look...." He sighed heavily. "Call me and let me know you're alive, alright? I'd hate to think you sustained a massive papercut and need medical attention." He hung up and closed the phone, stared at it as if the force of his will could make it ring, and then he sighed again and shoved it back in his pocket.

_He's worried about me. I mean really, truly worried. _Something warm and sweet fluttered around her heart. She ruthlessly supressed it, as she did every time it tried to raise itself from the ashes there. _I wonder why those calls aren't coming through? Apparently celluar service in the ether isn't too hot. Oh well. If I can ever get done with these damn ghosts, I'll call him._

He walked over to the big desk tucked under the window that faced into the small backyard. He pulled open one of the drawers, and he took out a small wrapped package. He turned it around in his hands for a moment, looking at it, lost in thought. Mary walked over to get a closer look at it, and she saw a gift tag on it that clearly said, even in the dim illumination provided by the lava lamp, "Mary." _Oh hell. And I haven't gotten him anything. Oh shit...shit...SHIT.... He knows we don't do gifts!_

He slipped the package back in the drawer and pushed it firmly shut. He leaned on the desk for a moment staring out at the moonlit yard, and she heard him murmur, "Come on, Mare. Just call me back. That's all I'm asking...." And he pushed off the desktop and headed for the door to rejoin the party in the rest of the house.

Mary drifted after him. As he crossed the living room, Mary watched him interact with other people. Shelley appeared at her shoulder.

"Learn anything interesting?" She was holding a small paper plate full of party foods. Mary narrowed her eyes.

"Where did that come from? I thought you said we can't interact with the party at all?"

Shelly smiled coyly. "No. What I think I said is that _you_ can't touch them. _You_ can't interact with them. I didn't say anything at all about _me_."

Yeah. She really didn't like Shelley very much.

"So. Back to my original question. Did you find out anything interesting?"

"I don't know. My hunger is clouding my mind."

Shelley sighed and shoved the plate toward Mary. Mary snagged two tiny sandwiches and started munching, continuing to let her eyes follow Marshall as he moved around talking to this group and that. She noticed that several of the women in the room were trailing him with their eyes. One of them, a redhead in a very small dress, had maneuvered him into a corner near the kitchen and was now leaning up to whisper something in his ear. Mary's fingers tightened on the tiny sandwich.

"Mary...."

"What? Oh yeah. I learned that this is a complete fucking waste of my time. And that those little sandwiches just make me even hungrier." The redhead had her hand on Marshall's chest, ostensibly placed there in a little patting motion while she laughed. _She's gonna lose that hand if she doesn't get it off him...._

Shelley watched her carefully. "And is that all?" Marshall was leaning back against the wall now, and the redhead was sidling closer, that hand of hers drifting up toward his shoulder. He was grinning, seeming to enjoy it. _What the hell, Marshall? Is this what you spend your spare time on? I didn't know you had a thing for cheap and tacky, not to mention colors not found in nature..._

As the redhead finally made her real play and stepped up close enough to press her body against Marshall's, Mary felt her blood boiling. If she were really there, she'd grab that faux redheaded tart and give her a new hairdo. Suddenly, Marshall made a neat sidestep, and he was away from her. The redhead pouted and looked after him, but Marshall would not be tempted back to her. He moved instead to another group where his friend John stood.

"Deborah almost got you that time, Marshall. I saw it. She almost had you pinned. We were putting down money on it."

Marshall laughed. "And was I getting good odds?"

John looked at him over his glasses. "I have to be honest, man. No. No, you were not."

Marshall sighed. "Oh well. Sorry to whoever lost." The rest of the group broke up muttering goodnaturedly, leaving only John and Marshall standing there.

"Tell me you didn't bet against me, John."

"Oh hell no. But you have to remember than I have inside information."

Marshall grinned. "And what is that?"

"I happen to know you're already gone over somebody else and therefore worthless as a man to all other women. But I thoughtlessly, selfishly, and ruthlessly kept that piece of trivia to myself tonight."

"And you cleaned up."

"I did. I made a whole $5 with it."

Marshall laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "You'd better be glad I'm not in any way connected with vice, John...."

They walked away, and Mary leaned against the nearby wall. Her heart was pounding. Was this true? And if it was, what should she do about it? What did it mean?

---

They stayed at the party for just a little while longer, and Mary watched Marshall with his friends. _Some of these people are really neat. I wouldn't mind knowing them. They're interesting to talk to, funny, intelligent. Especially John. I like the way he is taking care of Marshall because he knows he's not feeling well. _

A spear of guilt pierced her heart at that. _Because he's not feeling well because of me. Because I hurt him by not coming tonight._

She looked around the room for Shelley irritably. She found her standing near the door.

"It's time, Mary. We have to get you back. I have other engagements tonight, and so do you."

Mary reluctantly looked around at the assembled party guests and walked toward the door. _I don't want to go. I wish...I wish... I wish I'd just agreed to come. I think I would have enjoyed this, after all. I don't know what I thought it would be, but this, this I would have liked.... Marshall was right._ She sighed, looked at him one last time, and stepped through the door. She crossed the yard and got back into the elevator. The doors slowly closed and Mary felt the elevator begin to rise.

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**Okay. Chapter 3 is done. R&R, please. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: And now it's time for The Spirit of Christmas Future. This is a bit of a dark one, as it was in Dickens. Just so you know going in. You might want to grab your teddy or something. Not that you have one, of course... I also just want to add that I don't appear to be getting mail from FanFic at the present (have to bump them about that again...sigh...)so if you review, it may take me a bit to know it. Thanks to everyone who is leaving such wonderful feedback!

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The message of Christmas is that the visible material world is bound to the invisible spiritual world. ~Author Unknown

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Suddenly, the elevator gave a terrible lurch. Mary spun to look at Shelley, but adding to her horror moments before the elevator was plunged into darkness, she saw that Shelley was gone. She was alone. She reached out for the metal railing that ran around the side of the the elevator and clung to it as the little box seemed to buck and heave in the darkness. From somewhere above her was the sound of grinding metal. Mary screamed in frustration and fear.

_Ohnononono. What is this? I don't understand! None of this makes sense!_

Finally all motion together stopped. Mary was sitting on the floor now, having been more or less tossed there by the frantic drops and plunges of the elevator. There was silence except for the sound of her panting breaths and the tiny sound of clicking metal somewhere above, as if a cable was gently swinging free and brushing against the top, again, again, again....

Mary was afraid to move, afraid that any motion she might make would cause the elevator to finish its insane plunge to wherever it was that it was going. Yet...

_I can't just keep sitting here, can I? I can't just keep letting fear rule me, can I?_

A sound like a huge bell filled the tiny enclosure. It was almost painfully loud. Mary felt as if she were sitting inside a ringing bell, so strongly did the reverberations of each stroke pulse through her. The bell was deep, the tone so low that it was almost more felt than heard. She counted to herself in the darkness of the claustrophobic elevator.

"One...two...three..." The sensation of the sound continued, and she found herself wondering if get her out of here....she had to get out.... "six....seven..." _I can't stay in this box. I can't stay here anymore. I have to get out of here.... Somebody has to get me out of here..._ Aloud she was saying, "...nine...ten..." and the big-voiced bell stopped its ringing. She shifted ever so slightly, felt the elevator sway unpleasantly in response in the darkness, and thought again, _Somebody has to get me out of here!_

Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open revealing a blindingly white light. In the middle of it was a tall, slender figure wrapped completely in a dark cloak and hood. Its arms were folded across its chest as if in disapproval of what it saw. She could not see its face beneath the darkness of the cowl. Mary felt more than heard a rasping voice slide over her mind, "_Yes. You're right. Somebody does. You. So do it." _The tone was deep, as deep as the bell that had just struck ten, and Mary felt dry humor coming from it. She sat staring at it, dazzled both by its sudden appearance and by the light shimmering around it. It made her uneasy in some way she could not explain...

"_You will need to hurry it up, though, Mary, if you are going to get out of this trap. You might say escape is something of a limited-time offer...." _

From above her, there was a renewed screeching of metal on metal. Mary scrambled forward inelegantly on her hands and knees out the door. Behind her she heard the elevator doors glide closed and another sound, the sound of the box of the elevator falling....

She lay facedown on the floor, panting, happy for that instant just to have gotten out in time. Then she pulled herself to her knees and up to her feet on very wobbly legs indeed. The figure beside her (she could not tell whether it was male or female to be honest) simply stood and and watched. She stared at it, looking for any indication of who or what it might be. After all the other two had been people she knew. Was there something familiar about this one?

The figure endured her scrutiny for a moment or two, and she had a definite sense of ...amusement...from it, somehow. A dry laugh issued from under the cowl.

She felt irritation creep in at that. "So let me guess. You're the Ghost of Christmas Future, right?"

"_That is the name I wear at this time, yes. It will suffice."_

"And you're here to cart me off somewhere and show me some fantabulous crap about Christmas, right?"

Again that laugh like leftover leaves scuttling in a cold winter wind. _"I am come to show you what the future of Christmas will be if you persist in your present path. You will have to judge for yourself the...fantabulosity...of it, Mary."_

"Okay. Great. Let's get on with it, then, shall we? I have a phone call I really need to make, then. The elevator is wrecked, and that's how the others got me where we were going, so unless you have alternative transport..."

One thin arm extended, but she was unable to see the hand at the end. The robe draped it completely. _"We need no conveyance, Mary. Look about you. We are here."_

The light dimmed, and Mary was astonished to recognize that they were back at the office.

"Here? This is where you want to show me the wonder of future Christmases?"

The figure did not speak. It merely inclined its head. Mary surveyed the office. Some things were different; many things were the same. She walked slowly around the big room, inspecting. Eleanor was at her desk, looking much as she always did. Mary noticed with a smirk that a wedding ring now graced her hand and wondered if it had a mate on Stan's. Eleanor was working away, filing, typing, and was totally oblivious to her presence in the office.

A calendar on Eleanor's desk told her it was three years in the future. She glanced at the desks across the room, and noticed that there were three now. Apparently, a new Marshal was going to be added. _That Marshal sure didn't have much by way of personal items...even by my standards, that is a bare-ass desk. _There were a couple of stacks of folders on the top of it, and the usual assortment of sorter bins and so forth, but nothing else to show the personality of the individual who owned it at all.

Marshall's desk was Christmasy, but not as much as usual. One of the other desks, too, had a strand of garland rather halfheartedly draped across it. That was all. In fact, when she looked around again, she noticed that there was no festive tree, no garland, no kid ornaments, and not one string of lights. What had happened here? Had Stan thrown a fit? Had she? Was Marshall sick? Oh no...surely they hadn't brought her here to show her something like that.... She felt her heart clinch at the thought....

She turned to the dark figure hovering in the corner. "He's okay, isn't he? You wouldn't...you wouldn't..bring me here to see Marshall hurt or injured would you? Because I couldn't...that's not..."

The figure did not move. Its motionless silence was sinister suddenly, and Mary took a quick step toward it. She had to know....

The elevator doors dinged softly and slid open to reveal Marshall. She felt her heart start to beat again in relief. _Oh look. He's okay. _Her eyes took him in, the lanky frame, the tousled hair, they were the same, and the comfort of that flowed into her.

As she looked at his face, though, those eyes of hers, trained as they were to notice minute differences and details couldn't help but see that three years had somehow wrought great changes to her partner's face. His face, always high cheekboned and angular, was whittled away to its essentials. She ran her gaze over him again. He looked like he hadn't been eating properly....

_Marshall? Not eating? What is this? _The alarm bells that had been silenced by his appearance began to sound again.

He looked around the office, and his eyes narrowed on the desk in the far corner, the one with the one pitiful strand of garland on it. Shrugging off his coat as he went, he stalked over to the desk and ripped it off with a savage jerk. Eleanor looked up at him as he was crossing the room, and as she realized where he was going, she rose, darting across the room and trying to intercept him before he arrived, but failing to stop him from his goal.

Stan appeared in the doorway of his office with a young, dark-haired man behind him. The young man was looking at Marshall with wide, distressed eyes. Marshall stood holding the garland in his fist, staring at the young man with menace pure and distinct in his glare. Stan pushed the young man with his hand directly in his chest and shut the door to the office, giving Eleanor a speaking glance as he did so.

"Marshall, Marshall, he doesn't know. He didn't mean anything by it. He's new," Eleanor had a restraining hand on Marshall's arm, and she was gently prying the garland out of his hand.

"He needs to by-God _learn _or I'm going to wrap this around his neck," Marshall growled in a tone Mary had never heard from him before.

"Danny was trying to make things nice around the office, and he found that box of stuff in storage while you were gone and put it up...."

"Didn't you think to tell him to leave _that_ desk alone?"

"No, Marshall. I'm sorry. It didn't occur to me...I knew you wouldn't want anything on yours, but..."

_Wait, what the hell? Marshall's desk is the one that's decorated..._

Mary looked again at the desk with the decorations, took a good hard look, and she realized that it was different. None of Marshall's little knickknacks were present. There were a few items there, and she walked over to glance at them quickly. There was a framed photo of a young man and a woman, and as she lifted it to look, she realized that it was the dark-haired guy standing behind Stan.

_This isn't Marshall's desk anymore? Why not? What's going on here?_

Marshall was relinquishing the strand of red and green to Eleanor with a disgusted oath. "Take it. I don't even want to see it near me. I can't control what he does at his own station, but I don't want it on mine, and if I see it...if I see it...there....again, so help me, Eleanor..."

_So wait, he doesn't sit there, either? Why the hell does he care if somebody puts Christmas crap on it, then? What business of it is his? And when did he turn into such a damn grouch? Marshall was never this way. He's always Mr. Freakin' Holiday Sunshine Cheer..._

She looked at the only desk that was left. It was a cheerless place. Nothing on it looked like Marshall. There was not one piece of quirky, geeky charm that she associated with her partner on it. It looked as if everything she associated with him had been ruthlessly stripped away, leaving only the barest of necessities, a shell of what she'd known.

_Where is all his stuff? What is this? Why is he so different? _

Eleanor softly squeezed his arm. "I know. It's okay. I'm sorry. It was thoughtless on my part. It's gone. It's gone." She walked away, leaving Marshall standing and staring at the now-denuded desk. He walked over and ran his hands over the top, leaned heavily on the desk, his head bowing as if he were in prayer or deep thought.

He was still standing there when Stan came out of his office a few minutes later. Mary saw the new Marshal, Danny, scurry toward the elevator. Marshall did not turn to see him go. Stan placed his hand on Marshall's shoulder.

"You need to take a few days. This time of year is rough on lots of people, Marshall, for various reasons. I'm giving you a week. Go see your Mom and Dad. Get the hell out of Albuquerque for the holiday."

Marshall did not raise his head. His hand smoothed slowly over the surface of the desk in front of him. "They've already called me about ten times, and I've told them I can't come right now. They don't need to see me like this, Stan. I'd just ruin the holiday for them." He finally stood up, and he laughed. It was the darkest, most bitter laugh she'd ever heard from her partner, and it made her want to hug him, to shake him. Marshall was not supposed to sound like that. Ever.....

"They still have that whole 'holly jolly' thing going at home, and I just...can't...anymore. Not after...." He stopped, the words dying in his throat.

Stan waited patiently.

Marshall cleared his throat, forced a happier tone, looked out the window at the fading winter afternoon there. "Besides. I have to go see her. I always do, you know."

Stan looked at Marshall with genuine pity in his eyes. His tone was gentle when he spoke. "You know I've stayed out of this for a long time, but I have to say something now, Marshall. You need to let it go. That's not your job, not your burden. You don't have to keep..."

Marshall's eyes snapped to Stan, and his face was a mask of rage and pain. "Not my job? Not my burden? Who the hell else will do it then, Stan? Who? The family?" He gave an incredulous little laugh. "They took what they wanted while they could, used her up, and then they got what was left after it was over, and nobody even knows where the hell they are. You know that just as well as I do. No. I'm it. I'm all there is. If it gets done, it gets done by me." He raked a hand that trembled slightly through his hair.

Stan paused a moment, started to speak, thought better of it and shook his head, then simply laid his hand on Marshall's shoulder again and squeezed. "Take the rest of the week, Marshall. Do whatever you need. Try to get some rest, too, though, okay?"

Marshall stared up at him with haunted eyes and laughed that bitter laugh again. "Sure, Stan. Whatever you say." He picked up his coat and walked toward the elevator without another word or backward glance.

As he left, Mary felt confusion flood her. Where was she? What was going on with Marshall and why wasn't she here to help?

_And where do I sit now? _She surveyed the office again. That little detail had escaped her a moment ago. She'd been so concerned by Marshall's behavior that she hadn't noticed that with the now-shifted seating order, the only desk unoccupied was the one Marshall had been so upset about Marshal Danny draping with the garland. She was walking toward it to inspect it more thoroughly when that dry rustling voice called to her from near the elevator.

"_Aren't you curious about where he's going? Don't you want to know why he's so upset? Or does he truly mean nothing to you?"_

She jumped. "Oh. It's just that the other two of these things have sort of happened in one location...."

"_Well, this one doesn't. Follow him."_

Mary glared at the shrouded figure, but she crossed the office leaving the mystery of the desk unsolved. As she approached it, the elevator opened, perfectly whole, well-lit, functional-looking and safe. Mary paused before it.

"So I'm to take it that this thing is safe now?"

"_Do you really have a choice?" _A hand that was far harder than it should have been was suddenly in the middle of her back, and she was shoved inside with enough force to make her very nearly fall.

Once she was inside and the doors were closed, she turned to glare at the robed form standing at its ease beside her. "Nobody does that to me and lives to tell the tale, you know." Its only response was more of that rustling laughter. Mary felt a cold shiver chase its way up her spine.

The elevator hummed its way down again without further incident, and Mary breathed a sigh of relief when the doors purred open, both for having survived the trip and for the ability to get away from the figure at her side who was increasingly menacing for no reason she could name. It seemed to be growing more and more substantial, larger, gaining bulk, somehow.....

She stepped out of the elevator into a small paved parking lot. "Okay. Where are we now?"

The figure did not answer. Instead it merely raised its finger and pointed. She turned and saw Marshall's truck parked in a slot, further along the lot, and beyond the truck and lot, she saw rows and rows of tombstones.

"Oh, what is this about? He said he was coming to visit somebody, but this isn't visiting, is it?"

No reply from the figure. It merely continued to point. She saw Marshall walking down one of the winding cemetery paths far away. He had a bundle of flowers in his hands.

"What? I'm supposed to go see who he's 'visiting?' Will that help me understand what's going on with him? Why he's turned into mean, sad Marshall?"

Again, silence was her only response. _Really. Was that damn thing getting bigger? And had it had those wings the whole time?_

"Useful as hell, aren't you?" She sighed and started down the path after Marshall. It was cold, and although she really hadn't been aware of temperatures anywhere she'd been. She wished she had her coat as she hurried to catch up to him.

He had topped a gentle hill, and was kneeling beside one of the graves. A few old leaves had clustered near the tombstone, and he was raking them away with his gloved fingertips. She stood on the path and watched struck motionless by the pain in his face. She'd never, ever seen such misery there before. It made her want to run to him and put her arms around him, cling to him, tell him that everything would be okay....

His voice cracked as he spoke. "Damn useless family of yours is living off your insurance but can't even be bothered to come out here and clean the leaves away. But then we always knew they were worthless, right?" She saw him reach up and angrily swipe away a tear. He sat back on his haunches, surveyed his work, whispered softly, "Didn't stop you from trying so hard to save them, though.... I miss you so much." He slipped the flowers he'd brought into the vase of the simple tombstone, fiddled with them gently.

"Stan put me on a week's worth of paid leave if you can believe it. I went off on Eleanor because the new guy, Danny, decorated in the office." He laughed through tears that were now coming regularly despite his efforts to stop them. "Do you remember how much I used to love Christmas?"

_Who is he talking to? Who would know all this about him? Who has he lost that has affected him this much?_

Behind her, there was a rustling of wings. _"Why don't you just step around that stone and see?"_

Mary felt as though her feet had been cemented to the ground. "No..." she whispered.

Marshall, unaware of their presence, continued. "You always used to make fun of me so much for the way I decorated the house, but still, I think you enjoyed it, at least just a little. At least I hope you did. God, I hope you got some happiness from it. I can't bear to think about it otherwise. You had so little happiness in your life...."

"_I really think it's time for you to step around that stone and see, Mary."_

"And I really think it's time for you to go to hell," she snarled, but it didn't come out with the force she intended.

The dark figure behind her rustled in humor. _"Perhaps. But I don't think you're the one who gets to make that particular command decision."_

"You never did tell me why you hated Christmas so much. I always kept hoping you would. There were so many things I kept hoping you'd share. There were so many things I wanted to share with you, so many things I wanted to give you, but you just kept shutting me out, closing doors..."

Mary's heart was pounding. She turned to the ghost. "That could apply to anybody. Anybody. That does not have to be me he's talking about. Lots of people hate Christmas. Maybe he has another friend who kept secrets, kept him at distance." _Because I can't be in a box three years from now. I can't be. This can't be my stone Marshall is weeping over...._

"Now that you're gone, Mare, I just don't know what to do with myself, really. Nothing has been the same. I go to work, I go home, but it's all just ashes. I miss you so much..."

"NO!!!" She stepped forward, grabbed the top of the stone. "Marshall! I'm not dead! I'm right here! I'm not dead!"

He continued without any pause, unable to hear the anguish in her voice. "...and...and...I just wanted you to know...that I'm sorry that I never told you when it mattered how much I …."

"Marshall! Right here, idiot! Right here! SO very NOT dead!"

"...I love you."

Mary grabbed the tombstone hard and shut up. "You what now?"

As if he'd heard her, he sighed and placed his hand on top of hers on the tombstone. She could not feel it. "I love you, Mary Shannon. And I always will. But I have to go now. It's almost full dark, and they'll be locking the gate soon. They don't like it when I stay in after dark. I'll come back soon."

He laughed that hopeless, broken, most un-Marshall laugh again. "You know I can't stay away from you for long." And he pulled himself up, dusted off his knees, and started to walk slowly down the path toward his truck. Every line of his body was a study in dejection.

Mary would have gone after him, but suddenly the robed figure was blocking her path.

She snarled at it. "Get the hell out of my way. I want to go after Marshall."

"_The time for that is past. You had your opportunity to make a future path with him, and you chose not to turn down that road. Instead, your turning has brought you...here."_

She looked again at the hunched figure getting more and more distant. "I told you that I need to be with my partner. You're not listening."

"_It is not I who is having problems with comprehension here, Mary. You cannot go with him now. The time for that is done."_

"Okay. Where am I going now, then?"

The robed figure took a menacing step forward. Mary took an automatic step backward, and just as she realized that she should be tripping over the tombstone, she stepped into nothingness and began to fall.

"_Did I say you were going anywhere? Oh, I'm so sorry that you misunderstood, Mary. This is the end of the line for you..."_

Mary's back hit the bottom of the now-open grave, and she was looking up at the tombstone that had now reappeared. She could see from her position the carving on it. Her full name and dates appeared on it. She scanned it in fear-driven haste.

_Nonononono. This can't be happening. I died? I died on Christmas Eve? How is this possible? I died tonight? I don't understand...._

The figure towered over the tomb, and she saw black wings spread open partially, like a bird getting ready to take flight. _"Perhaps I should have mentioned to you that I also have other names, Mary Shannon, but I really thought you already knew me. We have spent so much time together you and I, anyway...." _The hood slid back far enough for her to see a face like a skull, and for the first time she could see the hands beneath the voluminous sleeves. Bleached white bones protruded.

"_It is rare that I am called by the title Christmas Future, in fact. I have other brothers, other relatives who wear that moniker more comfortably than I. I think you and I are more familiar with one another by one of my other names. We've tossed it back and forth between us for a long time, haven't we? Felt familiar when you first saw me, didn't I?"_

Mary couldn't speak, and she couldn't move. She was lying rigid, staring up at the stone, at...at....

"_Say it at least to yourself. You'll feel better if you do, I think..."_

_At Death...._

"_There you are. I've walked by your side for years now. I've held your hand numerous times, stroked your hair away from your face on an occasion or two, and one night, I wrapped my hands around yours as you sent a man from this world to the next."_

The unwanted memory of her kidnapping and the ending of it shuddered through her, and the unavoidable wave of nausea that always followed rippled through her compounded now by the mental image of this figure hovering over her during the entire hellish event. _But how? Why? Why me?_

_Rustling laughter. "So many questions. Every time. Always the same three. Just once, it would be novel if someone came up with something new."_

Mary felt a trickle of irritation and rage cut through the fear, but she still couldn't move.

"_You died on that Christmas Eve three years ago when you turned down the invitation to Marshall's party, Mary. That little shock you got when you leaned down to unplug those lights? Well, that, my dear, was actually enough to get you. Not a painful way to go, huh?"_

_You mean fucking Christmas lights killed me? _She was incredulous.

"_Yeah. I know. You always thought it would be a bullet in a dark alley, but sometimes Fate has a really odd sense of humor. Anyway, Marshall was never the same after that. He kept trying to call you, all night, if you want to know. He was the only one to be worried about you, gathered up a little search party and everything. When they found you, all the joy in him just died. You just heard why. He loved you. Loves you. Has for years. Because of you, he now hates Christmas, too, just like you always did. The part of him that loved it died when you did. Isn't that charming? Isn't that just what you always would have wanted for him?"_

_No. I would not want anything to hurt him..._

"_Well, it's not really your problem now, is it? Probably he'll be okay. I mean, there is that other thing, but..."_

_Wait. What other thing?_

"_Oh. Well. His job performance is slipping. Badly. You saw the incident in the office. You saw how much he's changed. There are all kinds of other little things, too. Stan is going to have him put through a psych eval soon. Probably he'll pass, though. If he doesn't, of course, that other thing will happen."_

_Dammit. What other thing? _Her concern for Marshall's future was causing her to forget she was lying in her own grave as she stared up at the creature beside it with fury.

"_What the hell do you care for? You couldn't even scratch up enough courage to go to his party, Mary. Why does it matter to you? You knew how important it was to him, and you still hid in that crappy little office instead of doing the one tiny thing that would have brought you both some cheer and joy..." _The voice from the skull was cold as ice, and Mary felt shame and pain spear her as she lay against the muddy ground.

_I...care. He's my....partner._

"_Your...partner. Yes. Well. Doesn't that just drip devotion and concern...." _The robed figure turned away from her.

_Tell me. I want to know! _

"_No. I will not. It's not a 'partners' sort of thing." _Arctic winters were warmer than this voice ripping into her....

_Will he be okay? Is he doing to be hurt? Will he lose his job? That job is everything to him._

"_Not everything, Mary. That's the point you keep missing. Not everything to you, either."_

_I mean it. He'll never survive it if he's fired.... _

Death was ominously silent. He turned back to her suddenly. The black wings spread wide and blocked out the last of the fading day.

_Oh my God. No. No. NO. Let me out of here. I have to...I have to...._

"_You have to what? You've made your choices, Mary. You've picked your path, closed your doors, decided what you will and won't allow. He's on the outside of every one of those. This is the inevitable result. Didn't you ever stop even once to think that there might be some? Don't worry, though. If it's any consolation at all, I think they bury him just over there."_

_I'll kill you, you bastard! Let me out of here! No! I'll save him! I'll change it! I won't let you have him! _

Death laughed his rustling little laugh and he waved his hand. Dirt from a pile nearby began to fill in the grave, filtering down over Mary's face and partially obscuring her vision of him.

"_I'm sure you will. Do you have any idea how many times I've heard that? Why don't you just get a little nap now? This will only take a minute, and it won't hurt a bit..."_

Mary screamed even as soil filled the narrow confines of her tomb.

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**I decided that I wanted The Spirit of Christmas Future to be a classic angel of Death. There were a couple of characters from the IPS-verse that I started to press into service, but ultimately, I wanted something faceless and outside their world to come in and bring this last message to Mary. I didn't want more baggage added by it having an IPS background.**

**One more chapter to go. R&R.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: And now, the conclusion of Mary's Christmas Carol. It feels so good to finish one! I hope you'll review at the end and let me know what you've thought of the whole series. It was hard to know where to stop this one, where the final "fade out" should be.... I hope you'll like where I decided to roll credits, as it were.....

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I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. ~Charles Dickens

Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind. ~Mary Ellen Chase

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The layer of dirt grew heavier and heavier over Mary, and she began to feel the weight of it pressing against her. Desperately, she strained every muscle, trying to move even the slightest bit. Just to be able to raise a hand, just to able to raise a finger to try to save herself from the fate that was now befalling her would be some relief, but she was denied at every turn. Even the tiny release of screaming was forbidden her, and only in her mind could her pleas and shrieks be articulated. The rest of her lay placidly as if she were just a stone at the bottom of the deep rectangle within the earth as it filled it. Her mind whirled.

_Please. Please. Let me out. I promise...I promise.... I need another chance...._

"_You've had **every** chance. Every opportunity to save the both of you. You could have broken out of this tomb a million times over with the simplest and smallest of human gestures. But you were perfectly happy each and every one of those times to stay still, Mary. It was easier, wasn't it? Less painful. No effort involved. And not to rip off Cavalier poets, Mary, but Herrick said this best, 'The grave **is** a fine and private place....' Nobody here is going to force you to step outside any of your precious little comfort zones." _Horrible, the laughter from that face in this situation was horrible. "_You've been quite content buried in a grave of your own devising for some time. Don't break with your tradition now. I'll I'm doing is adding a few ornamental touches."_

And darkness closed over her as the last of the earth filled the remaining space and her mind shut down, unable to bear the misery and terror of it all at last.

---

Mary slowly became aware of the world again. She felt a terrible heaviness surrounding her, a lethargy filling her, and although something was telling her that she had to move, had to struggle to open her eyes, she didn't want to do it.

_There's no point. There's nothing to see. It's all over. I've messed it up so badly._

Her heart mourned over everything the Spirits had shown her. She thought about Brandi offering her Kitty, eyes huge and hopeful despite the missing presents. She thought about Jinx and those homemade ornaments that had meant so much to them all hanging on that pitiful tree. She thought about Marshall waiting for her, present wrapped and tucked away in a desk drawer, unable to enjoy his party because she wasn't there, wasn't answering her phone. She thought about the Marshall she'd seen in the future, bleak, dark, fading away....

_Because of me. Because I hurt him. Because I forgot the good things and only focused on the bad. Because I forgot Kitty and only remembered the bikes. Because I forgot making the ornaments and only remembered the crappy tree and Daddy running out with the money. Because I shut him out again and again and again. _

_Oh Marshall. If I only had it to do over again. I'd be so different. I'd tell you things. I'd appreciate you more. I'd let you in. I'd remember that there were some good pieces mixed in with the bad things, too... I wish I could just at least see you one more time. Tell you not to be sad. Don't be sad, Marshall. Don't be sad...._

She became aware of gentle pressure on her shoulders, and from some where there was the sound of a voice. It was not the horrible ice-claw-bottomless-bell voice of Death. She almost knew this voice. She almost recognized it. What was it saying? She listened, focusing her attention carefully...

"...I promise I won't be sad, Mare, if you will just wake up for me. Come on. Come on, now. That's it."

Was there light? Could she breathe? It seemed as though her chest was rising and falling, but she'd been trapped down here in the darkness for so long.... She bent all her concentration on the voice. It sounded...scared....

"Mare. Please. Come on. Be okay. You're too strong for a little thing like this to be the end. Just open your eyes. Please."

_Marshall? Is that...Marshall? Marshall is not supposed to be here. Did he get Marshall, too?_ She stirred, disturbed, and was surprised to find that she could move her hand now. She reached out blindly and encountered another hand which wrapped around hers, gripping tightly, desperately.

"Yeah. It's me. Nobody got me. I'm right here. Come on, Mary. If you're gone, who's going to give me hell all the time?"

Those words gave her the strength she needed to force her eyes open. It took as much effort as if she were clawing her way up through six feet of fresh grave dirt. Her eyes refused to focus at first, but as they did, she made out Marshall kneeling on the floor beside her, peering anxiously into her face. His coat was flung on the floor behind him. She was lying on her back, the cold tile of the office floor pressing into her. Every muscle ached.

"M...Marshall?" Her voice rasped and cracked. She felt as though she needed a gallon of water, an ocean. Was that the taste of grave dirt in her mouth? She shuddered.

His face broke into a beautiful smile, and he sat down hard on the floor. "Yeah. There you are."

She tried to sit up, but the world was turning in horrible little circles, and she didn't get very far. Suddenly, Marshall's strong arms were under her shoulders, and he gently lifted her. Grateful for the support, she leaned against him as he pulled her into his lap. He held her head against his chest and stroked her hair softly while the world stopped spinning. Her fingers clutched tightly at the soft dark green fabric of the shirt he wore.

For a time, they simply sat there just that way, his arms protectively wrapped around her, her fingers weakly, yet somehow tenaciously, gripping him. Finally, Mary found the strength to speak. "What happened to me? I'm...I'm...not dead?"

The arms around her tightened. "No. No, you're not." She didn't miss the controlled panic in his voice. "And the truth is Mare, that I don't know. I can only guess. How much do you remember?"

_Too much. Say, did you happen to see Eps, Shelley Finkle, or a big bastard with wings and a cloak around here when you came in? Did he tell you anything about a grave for two? _

"I'm not sure...."

Marshall sighed. "I was at my party tonight, and I kept getting this feeling that something was wrong, something was off. I tried calling you, two, maybe three times, then I decided I'd just come here and check up on you."

_That's what I saw with Shelley! I saw him make those first calls! Did it really happen, then?_

"When the elevator opened, I saw the office was empty, and I started to leave, but something made me come on in. The first thing I saw was your feet here just under the tree." He shuddered and shifted her closer to him. "Oh, God, Mare. I've never been so scared in all my life.... I know it sounds stupid now, but I kept thinking that if you were dead, I'd never be able to look at another Christmas tree as long as I lived...."

The words of the Spirit of Christmas Future floated back to her about Marshall being the one who found her, the way it had killed Christmas for him forever in that one instant.....

"You were breathing when I found you, but you wouldn't wake up. I think you must have gotten some kind of massive shock from that string of lights. Your hand is burned from it, too. See?" He took her hand in his own again, gentle as if he were holding bone china, and he turned it palm upward. A small curious star-shaped burn appeared there, red and ugly-looking.

"I was so afraid that you...that the shock had....that you were going to..." He stopped, unable to find a way to finish the sentence. He ran his thumb over the skin near the burn, whisper soft, delicate as a feather.

"Couldn't leave just yet, Marshall," Mary managed. She was feeling stronger now. She even managed a tiny smile.

He looked up from the burn on her hand to her eyes. A matching version of her grin appeared. "Oh yeah? Why is that?"

"Had something I really needed to do here first."

His smile was larger now, relief evident that they were apparently falling back into their comfortable patterns of banter and play. "Let me guess. Does it have anything to do with kicking the ass of the person who is responsible of putting up the Christmas lights?" His easy grin said that he was waiting for the punch line, knew that it was going to involve him in some way.

Mary looked at him, took in the angles and planes of that familiar face, the blue eyes with their wit and happy sparkle, the concern for her and what she finally now could recognize as love hiding underneath that concern....

_No. Not hiding. He's never been hiding it. You just haven't wanted to see it. Until maybe now...._

"It had nothing to do with Christmas lights, Marshall, but everything to do with you. I needed to tell you I...I'm sorry."

His face changed expression suddenly, going from his usual quirky humor to total seriousness, sadness haunting his eyes.. "Mare...you've had a shock tonight. Literally. I think you should..."

"_I_ think _you_ should let me finish...." She said it gently, so gently, that tone she never used with him. She was frequently sarcastic to him. She often ordered him about. She knew how to be serious with him and how to laugh both at and with him. But this rare softness.... It made something inside her ache to see that it caused him more distress than if she'd snapped at him. He shifted her in his arms, and she knew he was thinking about brain damage, about electrical current sizzling through her body, about the after-effects of a life-or-death situation.

"Do you know why I've always hated Christmas, Marshall?"

He looked at her oddly, disconcerted even more by this seeming change of topic. "No, Mare. Why?"

"Because a long time ago, somebody hurt me. A lot. And at that time, I started seeing only the bad. I wanted to avoid it ever happening again, you see. I was determined to make sure it didn't get me, that the bottom couldn't fall out, that I couldn't be disappointed anymore, ever, not me or anybody else I loved. I was so busy doing that, protecting myself all the badness that I locked myself away from all the goodness, too."

She unclenched her hand from Marshall's shirt, smoothed the wrinkles she'd caused idly with her fingertips. "It occurs to me now that I shut out all kinds of people and things that I would have enjoyed by doing that, Marshall." She stopped the motion of her fingers, and they rested over his heart. She could feel the strong, steady beat of it under her hand. She looked him straight in the eyes. "People like you."

Something beautiful flickered in his eyes and was squelched mercilessly. Marshall's hand came up to cover her own. He squeezed gently. "Mare, you've been through an awful lot tonight. I think maybe I'd better get you to the ER and get you checked out, and then see about getting you home..." He shifted her in his arms, getting ready to move her aside so he could rise.

"No. Marshall, I mean it. Listen to me. I do not need to go to any emergency room. I do not need any doctor. I need... I need..." She gripped his shirt, desperate for some way to make him understand.

He stilled, looked at her with an expression that had shades of the hopelessness Mary had seen fullblown in the broken Marshall who had cried at her graveside in that future place three years from now. "What, Mary? What is it you need?" He ran an absently caressing hand down the side of her face, pushing her hair away from her cheek as he spoke. It was the tone of a man who had nothing left to give, but who would give it anyway....

_I'm going about this all wrong. He doesn't understand. I have to make him understand. _Suddenly the answer came to her. "I need you, dammit. Just you." And she reached up with aching arms and pulled his face down to hers by twining her fingers in hair and she kissed him.

She did not know if the room rocked on its foundations or if it only seemed as though it did. There was very little difference to her. From the moment her lips met his, the sense of the utter rightness of the act enveloped her like a ball of warm, white light, and the last of the lingering chills from the grave melted away.

For a moment, Marshall sat as though stunned, still as her lips pressed against his, but with a small sound that could have been either pain or joy, his arms came around her, and he began to kiss her back. These were the precious first kisses, tender, full of all the things they had not yet said to one another. There was no urgency, only a sense of something finally clicking into place, of at last being connected and whole. Mary was not certain, but there seemed to be the sound of bells, great happy carillons of them ringing joyously.

She did not know how long they kissed, but suddenly, they parted at the sound of the elevator doors dinging softly. Mary tensed immediately, fearing to see what might walk around the corner. Marshall continued to hold her gently in his arms, and she rested her head against his shoulder as footsteps came near.

_Please don't let it be one of them...please don't let it be...Him...._

"So you found her? Is she okay?" Stan's voice

"She apparently got a nasty shock from that string of lights, but I think she's going to be okay. Somebody found her in time."

Mary smiled against his shoulder and turned to face Stan. "Yeah. If it weren't for Captain Somebody and his heroic hunches, I might not be around anymore to keep you all in line."

Eleanor stepped around Stan. "Damn. I thought I was very specific about what I asked Santa Claus for, too. Oh well, there's always next year...." Her eyes did not miss the way Mary and Marshall were still surreptitiously holding hands or their kiss-swollen mouths. She grinned just a little and winked at Mary. "Marshall, are you sure she's okay?"

Mary groused, "Why isn't anyone asking me this question? When was I declared mentally incompetent?"

Eleanor smiled sweetly. "Too easy, Mary. Too easy. And it's Christmas. I'll let that one go...."

Marshall stood up carefully and pulled Mary to her feet. She wobbled a little, but was otherwise okay. He studied her a moment before saying, "Yeah, I think she's going to be fine."

Eleanor turned to Stan and said, "Then we should all go back to your party. I told everyone that we had a brief emergency to take care of at the office but that we'd be right back. Some redhead named Deborah was offering to play hostess in your absence. She was saying something about virtually being your girlfriend anyway...." Eleanor was the picture of innocence as she said it, but she did not miss the way the Mary's eyes narrowed or the red blush that crept over Marshall's cheeks.

Marshall turned to Mary. "Are you sure you won't go to the ER? I really think you should..."

Mary smiled up at him sweetly. He was not deceived. "And miss meeting your girl Deborah? Hostess of the party? Not on your tintype, buster. Get your coat. I've got a Christmas party to attend."

Eleanor saw Marshall struggling to keep from smiling as he quickly crossed the room to grab Mary's coat first and then collect his own from where he had tossed it on the floor. That done, they pulled the entire extension cord of lights out of the wall carefully with a rubber-pot-holder wrapped hand, and everyone left together.

---

At Marshall's house, the party was still in full swing when they got back. It wasn't very late at all. Mary got to meet Marshall's friends, and they were every bit as much fun as she'd thought they would be, especially John. She enjoyed watching Marshall moving from group to group, full of the bounce and cheer she associated with him.

_That's what he's supposed to look like. That's my Marshall. _

Suddenly she saw him coming toward her. Someone had stuck a pair of reindeer antlers on his head, and he had a silly, conspiratorial grin on his face. His hands were behind his back, clearly hiding something.

_God help me. Yeah. That's my Marshall._ She sighed, but she felt an answering grin of her own spreading across her face.

"I thought you were supposed to be a professional at hiding things, Marshall. You do know that I know you have something behind your back, right?"

Marshall laughed, delighted, and brought out another set of reindeer antlers from behind his back. He held them out triumphantly.

Mary gave him a very long, measured look. "How much of John's 'special' eggnog have you had tonight?"

He wiggled the antlers at her. "Come on, Mare. Please? Pretty please with holly on top?" She continued to look at him with that same amused but reluctant look. He perched on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, and dropped the antlers on the floor accidentally. He leaned down to pick them up and as he did so, he whispered in her ear. "You'll help me win $20." He pulled back with his eyes sparkling. Again, he proffered the antlers, cocked his head to the side. The picture he presented sitting there, full of mischief, silly antlers atop his dark hair, made her want to sock him or kiss him. She wasn't quite sure which.

She took the antlers in her hand and looked at them. _No more shutting him out. No more saying no just because. _ She gave him a tight little smile and said through her clenched teeth, "Idiot. You owe me. Big time." Marshall raised his eyebrows, showing he understood and agreed. Taking a deep breath, she took the red antlers on their green headband and slipped them on her head.

Marshall's smile was radiant. Across the room, she heard Bobby D.'s loud exclamation, "No freakin' way!" Mary felt a dual pleasure radiate through her knowing that she'd made him happy and knowing from whom Marshall had won the money. When Marshall stood up and held out his hand, she slipped hers into his and they walked across the room toward a dumbfounded Bobby together.

Another sweet moment for Mary came later that evening. Mary came around the doorframe to the den to find Marshall all alone and pressed against one of his bookshelves by the tall redhead in the tiny dress who had pursued and cornered him there. She was draped against him, and she was purring seductively at him. Marshall was trying to disentangle himself without hurting her feelings, but the redhead would not be budged. The redhead was running her hands over his chest and up into his hair, trying for a kiss.

_Ha. There are some people that nice just doesn't work with. Isn't Marshall lucky? He just happens to have a partner who specializes in not nice..... You'll need to get your hands off Marshall now. Or lose them. K? Thanks. _

Mary strode right up to them and leaned against the bookshelves next to them. Marshall noticed her immediately. It took the redhead a moment longer. She stopped her attack on Marshall, but she did not undrape herself.

"Can we help you?" her petulant voice was filled with the underlying message, _go away now_.

Mary smiled. It was a smile that anybody who knew her would have been running from, and running from while keeping a sharp eye on all projectile-type weapons as well.... Mary cocked her head to the side and looked at Marshall. He was standing very, very still, exactly as a man who had suddenly realized he was standing on a landmine might do.

"Um. No. I'm pretty sure you can't. I just need Marshall."

"Oh yeah. That's right. You're his _partner_ or something, right?" The redhead managed to make the word partner sound somehow like _factotum_ or _flunky_. She ran her hand possessively up to Marshall's shoulder again as she ran a scathing glance up and down Mary's jeans and sweater. Marshall tried to catch her hand, but she eluded him.

_Balls. She's got balls. I'll give her that. She's a nasty little piece of business. That's just going to make this next bit all the more fun...._

"Something like that, yeah." She shot Marshall a glance full of amusement. Marshall's eyes were wary.

"Well do you think you could do what you came in here to do and get out? I mean, I think it's pretty clear to see we were...." she leaned in again despite Marshall's trying to pull her off "...in the middle of a private conversation..."

Mary smiled. "Sure. I just need him a minute right now. Something really important. I promise."

The redhead sulked and drew her hands off him. "Fine. But hurry up...." She let him go and walked over to the window to look out at the moonlit yard. She impatiently tapped a long acrylic nail on the sill.

Marshall grabbed Mary's hand and said in a fervent whisper, "Oh my GOD. Thank you. I can't get her to stop. I have tried everything to get rid of her, and I don't want to be rude. She's a sister of one of my oldest friends. She won't take no for an answer."

Mary grinned wickedly. "Let's see if she does any better with a visual aid." She grabbed Marshall and pulled him hard against her. "Follow my lead, _partner,_" she murmured. And she kissed him.

This was no gentle kiss. This was a kiss to make a statement. Mary was good at making statements, causing scenes, and generally getting her point across, whether she was doing it with her words, her fists, or her lips. She was exceptionally good at kissing any way it was done and for whatever reason it was happening. She put all her emotion and expertise into this kiss now.

Marshall rocked back on his heels, stumbling into the bookshelves and making a little noise in his throat as she sucked his bottom lip between hers to nip it lightly with her teeth. His arms went around her, and then his mouth opened under hers and he was kissing her back. Lips and tongues met, clashed, stroked, and suddenly, the reasons she started this kiss were starting to fade into the distance. She slipped her fingers into his hair, felt his hands sliding around her, down her to spread over her behind to pull her even closer to him.

Behind her, she heard the outraged noises of the horrible redhead, but she really couldn't be bothered to care.... Marshall turned her so that she was the one pressed against the bookshelves, and she sighed as his hands began to slip up her from her waist. Their kisses were deep, drugging, and all she wanted was more and more of them.

_Can't believe I've been missing this for so long....Marshall....We could have been doing so much more than watching movies all those nights I stayed over.... _She groaned softly into his mouth, and she felt his hands flex against her, felt his mouth grow more fervent in response.

Just then, a throat behind them clearing recalled them to themselves. They stumbled apart to see John leaning against the doorframe. He raised his hand in a cheery little finger wave.

"So, um, Deborah left."

Marshall was as red as his Christmas decorations. "Oh, John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings...."

John looked from Marshall to Mary and laughed. "What? You've been worried about that? A charging bull elephant couldn't hurt Deborah's feelings. She'll bounce back. And right onto somebody else. Trust me, man. I'm just happy for you two kids."

Mary laughed and the three of them returned to the living room chatting, Marshall's arm comfortably around Mary's shoulders, her arm tightly around his waist.

---

The last guests were gone and the last of the paper plates, plastic cups, bottles and cans had been cleared away at last. Mary collapsed on the couch.

"Jesus, Marshall. For this to be a 'small party,' you sure had a lot of people here tonight."

He smiled. "Yeah. It was great to see everybody. Some of these people I only get to see once or twice a year. It's so hard to get everybody together with the way our work and family schedules all are now." He flopped down in his customary place on the couch beside her. He looked at her a moment, and the he reached out and then he drew her hand into his, turning it over and tracing the area around the star-shaped burn gently with his fingertips. "Of course, the one person I most wanted in the world almost wasn't here at all...." His smile faded as he continued to trace the little wound.

"Marshall..."

"Shh... It's okay. Just let me talk...When I saw you there, and I thought you were gone, I was so scared. And then when you kissed me..." He sighed, brought her injured hand to his lips, pressed a soft kiss there. "There aren't words. Then, tonight, with Deborah, when you kissed me again..." He held her hand to his chest, so careful not to hurt her, so careful to keep his grasp light, the hold of someone lightly restraining a wild thing knowing at any moment it would unfurl wings and fly away.

"I know why you did what you did tonight, and I just wanted to tell you before it became an issue between us that I understand. You don't have to worry about it coming up again or me getting any silly ideas, okay? What happens at Christmas stays at Christmas, I guess." He looked up at her and gave her a smile that tried to be sincere and might have succeeded if there hadn't been that desperate something fluttering and looking for escape in his bright blue eyes.

Mary felt the warmth in her heart freeze a little as she realized what he was saying, what he was doing. _He expects me to slam the door closed on him, and he's stepping back so he doesn't get caught in it when I do. Because I always do it to him. Every time. Oh God, Death was right. Every time I choose to close him out, so often now that it's just become...__**routine**__...._

_And now I have a choice to make. I can choose to do what I have always done, what he's making so easy for me to do and just go back to our status quo, _and it seemed she could feel again the many feet of fine silt pressing down upon her for just a moment...._or I can dig my way out of this hole...._

She continued to meet his gaze, and she wrapped the fingers of her burned hand around his and squeezed hard, feeling the little bite of pain. "No, Marshall. That's the beauty of Christmas, you see." She felt something deep inside her break apart, fall away, and it was a good feeling.

"What? Mary? I don't understand...."

She shifted on the couch until she was right beside him, facing him. She put her hands on his shoulders. "The beauty of Christmas is that the good parts of it don't just stay stuck at Christmas. They go with you the whole year through." She pushed his rumpled hair back from his forehead, and she leaned up to press a kiss there. "And Marshall, for me," she kissed his right cheek on its high sculpted bone, "you are the very best," a kiss to his left cheek, "of this Christmas and all the Christmases I've had, past, present, or yet to be," and her lips pressed softly against his own.

He melted against her, kissing her back, his arms circling her, pulling her to him hungrily, but moments later, he pulled away.

"Do you mean it, Mary? Because I don't want you to say something you don't mean now just because..."

She gently smacked him. "Idiot. How often do I do that? Am I known for my great indecisiveness?"

He blinked at that, and broke out in a radiant grin, pulling her back tightly against him. "No. That's one thing you are not, Mary Shannon. Nobody would ever call you indecisive."

She laughed. "Well, not twice, anyway."

He kissed her. She stopped laughing.

_Lovely, this. Love the lovely kisses. We should do this all the time. He's very, very good at this. _She sighed against his lips. Suddenly he pulled away and was gone.

"Uh, Marshall? I know we haven't done much of this together and all, but... Unless you have a style _all_ your own, we do need to be in the same room for most of it, I think....."

He laughed, his voice coming to her from down the hall. "Be right back, I promise. I just remembered I have something for you."

She looked over the back of the couch and down the hall, made her voice a seductive purr. "Mmmm... I know. And that's why I want you to come back in here, Marshall Mann..."

He came hurrying back down the hall with a mischievous grin on his face and a small package in his hands, sliding back onto the sofa. "You do know how to make a guy hurry don't you?"

She laughed, leaning against him and pressing him down against the cushions. "I also know lots and lots of ways to make a guy...linger....when I want him to. Care to see some of those?" She nuzzled his ear, gently bit the lobe, smiled at the heartbeat racing under her hands, at the stutter when he spoke.

"God, M-Mary.... Let's open this first, okay? Otherwise, I don't think I'm going to think about it again..." He held up the gift and placed it in her hands. She sat up and pushed her hair back behind one ear to unwrap it. He sat up against the couch cushions to watch with eagerness as she began to pull the ribbon off.

When all the paper was off, she opened the small box inside to reveal, lying on a small wad of white cotton, a silver bracelet. It was a cuff, about as wide as her index and middle fingers together, and decorated on the outside with a stylized, vaguely Celtic, incised image of a large graceful bird in flight, perhaps an eagle. In its talons, it held a star.

She ran her fingertips over it, already in love with the design. It was beautiful. She looked up at Marshall who was watching her every gesture and expression.

"Oh, Marshall. Where did you find this?"

He smiled. He'd seen what he needed to see in her face, in the reverent way she was handling it.

"I went to a craftsmen's exhibition awhile back, and when I saw that piece, I thought of you. I seemed like it had your name right on it."

Mary smiled, still turning the cuff over and over and looking at the design. She did not, as a general rule, wear much jewelry. It got in her way, became a liability in combat, or was just another thing to get lost or have stolen. This cuff, though, would sit sleekly on her wrist, would not impede her movement or her ability to defend herself, and was so light, she did not think she would even know it was there most of the time..... She slipped it on and looked down at it. It was a little big for her wrist.

Marshall's large hands wrapped around her wrist, and he gently shaped the silver to fit her. When he was done, he left his hands there, smoothed them over the bracelet, over the flesh just above it. "There. Perfect."

And it was. Everything suddenly was. In ways she hadn't known it could be. But....

"Marshall, I'm ashamed to say it, but I didn't get you anything for Christmas." _Oh how I wish I had, now...._

Marshall smiled. "Didn't you, Mare? Are you sure?" He brought the hand bearing the bracelet at its wrist up to his lips for a lingering kiss. "Because I could swear that everything I asked Santa for is sitting right here on my couch right this very minute waiting for me to unwrap and enjoy." His eyes were sparkling with that glorious happy light that she loved so much, and she smiled in return.

"Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of a man and his Christmas present." When he tugged gently on her hand, she allowed him to pull her down on top of him, and they fell backwards onto the couch.

---

Outside the window, three figures looked on in quiet contentment at a job well-done for just a moment longer before turning away to other places, other tasks. The first no longer looked like Robert Eps, but still shone silver and jingled slightly with the sound of tiny bells when he moved. The second was still dressed in green despite no longer sharing the form of the illustrious Dr. Shelley Finkle. The third still moved in dark robes and the rustle of black wings. The only sign of their presence to be found the next day was one large black feather lying on the doormat.

**_Finis_

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**I hope you enjoyed it. I hope the ending was happy for you. R&R.**


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